Page 2 of Sheets & Giggles
Ashton
Once all the furniture is set up in my new apartment, I get to work unpacking the boxes. The door across the hall opens and closes, telling me that my cute neighbor has finally returned from her mail expedition. She’s been gone for a while. So, I guess she did more than check her mail. The scent of coffee in the air tells me she stopped off for a cup of Joe. I love that she went out on the street looking like she just rolled out of bed. This is a fairly affluent area, and I doubt many women would have the courage to do the same. And I work in the corporate world, so in my usual day to day, all I see is suits and ties, dress skirts and blouses. I crave comfort. No matter how well made your suit is, it’s never as comfortable as a set of sweats. If I ever have my own company, I think I’ll change the dress policy. The suits can be saved for client meetings, but the rest of the time we’re in the office, it’ll be sweats city. I’ll even get couches put in with those little roll-up desks, so no one has to hunch over their computer from eight till six every day.
Shaking my head, I get rid of this silliness coating my brain. I’m no closer to having a company of my own than I am to unpacking this apartment any time tonight. There are boxes everywhere, and honestly, after driving all night to get here, all I really want to do is get out of these filthy clothes, take a shower, and hit the hay. The boxes can wait until tomorrow.
Just as I start searching for the box my towels are packed inside my cell rings, my father. No doubt he’s checking that I’m all set up and ready to go. The man is nearing eighty, and he still works harder than most twenty-somethings I know.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, putting him on speaker as I hunt for a box labeled ‘linen’.
“Hey yourself. Why haven’t I had a phone call yet?”
“Because I’m literally about to jump in the shower. It’s been a busy day.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ve got someone coming to help you settle in. A gift if you will. She should be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Dad, no. I don’t need help. I—”
“Talk soon. Make sure you’re ready to start work Monday.”
And then he’s gone. I look at my cell like it’ll somehow give me the answers on why a thirty-eight-year-old grown man is still incapable of saying no to his father and meaning it. But I don’t get to contemplate that long before there’s a knock at my door.
“Fifteen minutes, my ass,” I say, pulling the door open to reveal a tiny blonde woman wearing bright red lipstick while chewing gum.
“I’m Leona. Harry sent me,” she says, looking somewhat bored. “Said you need help settling in.” Her eyes move from my face, down to my broader than normal chest then further down south. I step to the side, and she walks straight in and removes her coat. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
